


The seven-year itch

by ash_wood



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Christmas, Christmas Decorations, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Christmas Smut, Christmas Tree, Co-workers, Declarations Of Love, Fluff, Foot Fetish, Fuckbuddies, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Oral Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 05:25:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9057442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ash_wood/pseuds/ash_wood
Summary: Harry woke up with what had to be the hangover of a century.That sort of hangover, which made you believe there couldn't possibly be any alcohol left on the Earth's surface.Just because you drank all of it.All. Of. It.Something cramped his middle, making it hard to breathe.He opened his eyes, blinking a few times, before spotting a shock of platinum blonde hair on top of his chest.“Ouh fuck it, not again.”, he murmured, his fingers trailing through the mess of silky strands.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: all of those lovely characters, places and other things you might recognise belong to our beloved J.K. Rowling.  
> I don't own any of them and I don't earn any money with this story.  
> Just for the inner pervert for sure.  
> Also, the song Draco is singing is called "Fairytale of New York" by The Pogues - not owning any rights of that either. 
> 
> This is the first time I translated one of my works - I hope you enjoy it and the translation is not too bad.
> 
> Merry Christmas! :)

London, 17th of December 2005

Harry was taking a large swig of his mulled wine, a wide grin plastered on his face directed at an utterly wasted Ron, who leaned on a shaking Christmas tree in the middle of the Ministry's atrium, while Hermione gave him a scolding he took with as much dignity as an incredibly drunk wizard could possibly manage.  
The ornaments clanged terribly on their flimsy branches, while the small fairies left head over wings, hiding in crests made of fir branch and cinnamon sticks.  
Bristling with anger she tilted her wand in Ron's direction, vanishing his puke off the floor and trailing him after her towards the Floo.

Shaking his head laughing, Harry turned towards the bar, staggering in the direction of the cute barkeeper, who already awaited him with fluttering lashes.  
He leaned forward on his elbows, his gaze wandering up and down a lean body while licking his lips in a hopefully promising way, the barkeeper smiling shyly, offering him another glass of mulled wine.  
As their hands touched around the warm glass, Harry heard the voice of the only person in the whole Ministry he'd most definitely didn't want to hear ever again for the rest of his life.  
Solely out of self preparation of course – he never could concentrate on his breathing properly whenever this particular individual was bitching around and, frankly, driving Harry nuts with his sneering and mocking.

“Salazar, these plebs do honestly believe in their own dignity and lofty style. I'll have you know I've seen Potter dressed more appropriate trotting around Diagon on a few occasions. And he definitely runs around the DMLE dressed like a hideous houseelf.”  
Rolling his eyes Harry turned around, searching for an unmistakable shock of hair.  
Pansy Parkinson hissed contemptuous.  
“You most certainly haven't noticed our respectable Auror Weasley getting sick under a mistletoe right on the tips of Under-Secretary Granger's pumps, darling.”  
Her counterpart rolled his eyes and smirked.  
“I think it appropriate to mention I am not surprised in the slightest.”

Harry wrinkled his nose as he walked in their direction.  
Merlin, he had no clue why that pointy git always managed to draw all of Harry's attention towards him.  
Malfoy was standing right in front of him, wearing infuriatingly tight midnight blue robes.  
His cloak whirled lightly around his feet as he moved slightly so Zabini could whisper in his ear, his words making Malfoy chuckle.  
Parkinson threw Harry a glare, before taking Zabini's arm, getting lost in the cheerful crowd as Malfoy turned around to face Harry, his trademark sneer in place.

“Gryffindors are indeed rather predictable in their actions, aren't they, Auror Potter? I don't know whether this is a crowning achievement for a man in your position.”  
“And I'm almost sure your chattiness will cost you your job someday, Unspeakable Malfoy.”  
A smirk spread across Malfoy's face as cold fingers brushed Harry's, taking the glass from his hand.  
Malfoy took a few sips, his gaze never leaving Harry's face.  
His lips were coated in rich red from the mulled wine, his eyes sparkling dangerously. 

“To what do I owe the honour of your appearance?”, he purred, moving away, Harry following him unconsciously.  
They came to a stop at the Floos, leaning against the wall, watching the babbling and dancing crowd.  
“Ron and Hermione already left. I could do with a bit of entertainment.”  
Malfoy raised an eyebrow and watched him out of the corner of his eye.  
“Oh? And now you're in for a little scuffle? You most certainly know I won't let you into the Department of Mysteries, Auror Potter. Not even in case the Minister himself offered to kiss my arse quite literally. Or you, Auror Potter. No room to negotiate.”

Harry grinned, taking his glass back from Malfoy, downing the rest of it, putting it down onto a tray which floated past them.  
He moved in front of Malfoy, blocking him from view of other guests.  
“You presume the most devious things, Unspeakable Malfoy.”, he murmured, watching Malfoy over the frame of his horn-rimmed spectacles.  
Malfoy just snorted, pursing his lips.  
“Only the best of course, Auror Potter.”

A strand of platinum blonde hair fell into his eyes, the silky waves framing his face in a very un-Malfoy fashion.  
Almost untidy.  
He placed his hands on either side of Malfoy's head, keeping him in place and wrinkling his nose.  
“Unspeakable Malfoy, tell me, is there a grain of truth grinding through the rumour mill?”, he murmured, grinning lopsidedly as Malfoy blushed.  
“Heard he's hung like a Romanian Longhorn.”, he whispered as Malfoy threw him a scornful grin.  
“Envy me, do you, Auror Potter?”

Harry grabbed a floating tray, picking up a champagne flute and pushing it into Malfoy's hand.  
“The Ukrainian Ironbelly needn't envy something as ordinary as a Romanian Longhorn.”, he chuckled, wiggling his eyebrows at Malfoy.  
Malfoy giggled, putting a hand on Harry's chest.  
“Auror Potter, your ego must be twice the size of your dragon.”  
The heat of Malfoy's touch burned through Harry's robes right into his skin.  
Unable to look away, he followed Malfoy's every move, as he downed the champagne before looking at him disparagingly. 

They fought one of their little glaring matches, when Malfoy abruptly pushed off the wall, his smirk back in place, puffing kisses in Harry's direction, before he got lost in the shuffle.  
Harry rolled his eyes, gripping another passing champagne flute, downing it right where he stood, hoping he'd be smashed as fast as humanly possible and use it as an excuse to floo home that early on a Saturday night.  
Sighing heavily, he pushed off the wall, doing some mingling of his own.

 

 

 

Merlin only knew how he always managed to get into the most impossible situations ever.  
Hidden behind a huge Christmas tree in a dark corner of the atrium, his hands tangled in silky strands of hair, his eyes lost somewhere inside their holes, he got the most sloppy and most exquisite blowjob since at least 364 days.  
Good Godric, that mouth, that throat, ouh bloody fuck...  
PLOPP.  
He tugged at the strands as a rude reminder - he couldn't believe how anyone was able to do him such injustice, denying him an orgasm in his state of mind was just cruel.  
Because, honestly, he was Harry Potter, Boy who lived.  
Or something among those lines.  
Anyway.  
His prick was trapped in a firm grip, scrunching at the base to delay his orgasm.  
“Don't you dare, Potter. After being pretentious enough to call yourself the largest known dragon you definitely owe me some proof.”, Malfoy murmured.  
He got to his feet, swaying his hips in a very unnerving and very lascivious way, moving towards the nearest fireplace.

Hastily Harry tucked his still hard prick back into his pants, following Malfoy through the crowd, before grabbing him by his collar and pulling him into a bruising kiss, stumbling into the fireplace, only parting for Malfoy to chuck some floopowder on the floor and Harry shouting his address.  
Kissing again they fell onto the carpet in front of Harry's fireplace in the drawing room, taking their clothes off as fast as they were able manage in their state of drunkenness.  
“Romanian Longhorn.”, Harry bristled with anger.  
Malfoy frowned at him.  
“Your jealousy is rather flattering, Potter. Just as much as it is exceptionally creepy.”  
Harry growled.  
“I swear, I'll exorcise Boot right out of you, Malfoy.”

Malfoy was laughing tauntingly at him, Harry's hand capturing his rock-hard cock, making his laughter sound like a drawn-out moan.  
“S-salazar.”, Malfoy hissed beneath him, biting into Harry's shoulder.  
Without thinking he grabbed Malfoy's slender hips, heaving him over his shoulder and ran up the stairs towards his bedroom as fast as he could manage.  
Entering the room he tossed Malfoy onto the mattress.  
Malfoy turned on his belly, laughing, trying to crawl off the bed, but Harry was already sitting on top of him, grabbing him by his hips, pushing his face into the cleft of Malfoy's arse.

Malfoy was crying out in a rather debauched way when Harry's tongue was pushing into him, moving slowly and teasingly while Malfoy positively melted beneath him.  
Dammit, Malfoy was burning him with his heat, consuming all of Harry with his tightness.  
All those years since the war had ended, they've been dancing around each other in the most stupid ways imaginable.  
Flirting, touching, all of it a bloody competition.  
Brawling, teasing, brainless shouting matches.  
Merlin, Malfoy was tasting like heaven.  
His moans sounding like the most exquisite music Harry ever heard.

“Potter – dammit – I swear you've been planning on this to happen.”, he groaned.  
Harry grinned wickedly around his tongue.  
Malfoy hissed as Harry replaced his tongue with a slippery finger, hunkering over Malfoy's pale body.  
“What if that is the case, Unspeakable Malfoy?”  
“Mh, I'd admire your commitment.”  
“Is that so?”  
“Fuck, yeah, right there! Oh Salazar, Harry! Yes!”  
Harry was pushing a second finger into him, curving it slightly while Malfoy wriggled beneath him. 

“Let's just put it this way. I've become rather bored listening to the intro and couldn't wait for the crescendo to finally resound.”  
“Well, if that's the case, then hurry the fuck up and shove that bloody hero-prick up my arse, Potter!”  
Harry chuckled, kissing Malfoy's shoulder blade, pulling his fingers out of said arse, replacing them with his so called 'bloody hero-prick'.  
Malfoy moaned loudly, pushing his bum needily into Harry's groin, who gripped his narrow hips, thrusting into the tight heat in front of him.  
Moans and screams of pleasure filled the room, the sound of their bodies colliding with each other horribly obscene – Harry was certain he'd come by merely listening to them fucking like randy rabbits, as he reached for Malfoy's cock. 

“Salazar, if I'd known all it would take to get you into bed was some dry humping with Terry Boot in a Ministry wardrobe, I'd have done it right at the beginning of that bad excuse of a party.”  
“You're such a slut, Malfoy.”  
“Why, Potter, the profanity! I'm appalled!”, Malfoy hissed, shifting until Harry lay on his back, Malfoy straddling him, rocking up and down, slow and intense.  
“Draco.”, Harry moaned, his hands roaming over every part of the delicate, damp skin.  
“Say it, Potter.”  
“Fuck.”  
“Say it.”  
“Merlin, I want you, Draco.”

Malfoy was sneering at him, quickening his pace.  
His head fell back, exposing all that delicious pale throat Harry loved to suck on, while his hand moved lower and lower, closing around his prick.  
Harry gulped, watching Malfoy's little show with an intense glare.  
Fuck, he was beautiful like that.  
Malfoy gave himself another quick tug before coming hard onto Harry's chest, his body tightening further around Harry's cock, taking him over the edge as well.  
Grabbing Malfoy's hips hard enough to leave bruises, he thrusted forceful into the willing body on top of him.  
They took their time to catch their breath again, Malfoy staring at him, a wide grin plastered onto his face.  
His fingers spread through his release on Harry's chest, tracing patterns on the clammy skin.  
“You don't honestly believe you'll ever be able to stop playing this little game of ours, do you?”

Harry snorted and, rolling his eyes, he wrapped a hand around Malfoy's neck, pulling him down into a breathtaking kiss, leaving Malfoy with glazed eyes.  
“Don't be too smug about yourself, Malfoy. We both know this is the way it always ends. If it wouldn't, mind, I'd AK you by the end of this week.”  
Malfoy giggled, pulled the blanket over them and draped himself around Harry.  
“You say the sweetest things, Potter.”  
“Sod off, Malfoy.”  
“You're welcome.”  
Grin spreading across Harry's face, he pulled Malfoy into a tight embrace, kissing him one last time before closing his eyes and falling asleep.

 

 

 

Harry woke up with what had to be the hangover of a century.  
That sort of hangover, which made you believe there couldn't possibly be any alcohol left on the Earth's surface.  
Just because you drank all of it.  
All. Of. It.  
Something cramped his middle, making it hard to breathe.  
He opened his eyes, blinking a few times, before spotting a shock of platinum blonde hair on top of his chest.  
“Ouh fuck it, not again.”, he murmured, his fingers trailing through the mess of silky strands. 

“Harry?”, Draco whispered, blinking up at him.  
“Indeed.”  
“Again?”  
“Aye.”  
Draco sighed dramatically, hiding his face in the crook of Harry's neck, his hair tickling Harry and making him giggle.  
“Why always those horrible Christmas parties?”, Draco grumbled.  
Harry kissed the frenetic streaks on top of Draco's head.  
“Being lonely and alarmingly drunk during Yuletide does that to people.”  
Draco looked up at him and kissed the corner of his mouth, before getting up and stretching his back. 

Harry stared at the exquisite arse in front of him, getting up to slap it thoroughly as his hand got caught, Draco glaring at him in an internecine manner.  
“Guess Pansy's owl's already waiting for me downstairs.”, he grumbled, pulling Harry off the bed and together they headed towards the bathroom where they put some orgasms by for rainy days.  
Afterwards they stood in front of Harry's wardrobe, Draco sceptically eyeing Harry's clothes and picking his old Quidditch tricot, putting his tight black pants back on after casting a quick cleaning spell. 

They went downstairs together, eating breakfast while Draco read Pansy's short note, puckering his nose and throwing it onto the table.  
“Seven years and she still knows how to outdo herself with every single one of those stupid letters.”, he murmured, licking jam from the corner of his mouth, pulling his feet up and draping them onto Harry's lap.  
Harry grinned.  
“She really is a piece of gold, isn't she?”  
Draco snorted before treating himself to more tea.  
“Why aren't any of your horrible and soppy Christmas decorations up yet?”

Harry shrugged.  
“The Weasleys and Hermione are heading to Australia for the holidays this year. In case she'll ever forgive Ron for getting sick all over her Jimmy Choos.”  
Draco shot him a piercing glare.  
“And what about you?”  
“What about me?”  
“Well, Christmas.”  
“I'm staying.”  
“Alone?”  
“I'm going to visit Andromeda and Teddy, I'm sure.”  
“Hm...”, Draco murmured and closed his eyes, sighing as Harry started to massage the sole of his foot. 

“You're gonna stay at the Manor I'll assume?”  
“Indeed. Boot's going to chaperone.”  
“Are you a couple now?”  
Draco opened his eyes, watching Harry as if he'd turned insane right that very second.  
“Sure. We're also going to marry in June, as June brides are the happiest and have a whole bunch of children.”  
Harry chuckled, pulling Draco's foot up to kiss his heel.  
“I never know with you, Mister 'sometimes I'm taken, sometimes I'm not, but after a decent Christmas party I'll end up in Harry Potter's bed anyway' Malfoy.”

Draco's laugh was earnest and unconcealed, never losing its effect on Harry.  
Snitches fluttered in his belly, making him dizzy and grin like a bloody fool.  
He looked at Draco in wonder, smiling to himself and placing another kiss on his heel.  
“Is that the reason you dry humped him in a cupboard?”  
Draco smirked, shrugging.  
“You know I've never been one to play fair.”  
“And you know I'd go with you if you'd just ask.”

Draco withdrew his foot of Harry's grip and stood up to sit on his lap, his hands caressing Harry's cheeks.  
“You know as good as I do that would be a bad idea.”  
“Why?”, whispered Harry, almost drowning in the depth of those beautiful grey eyes.  
“It would ruin everything.”  
Harry looked at him questioningly.  
“This.”, Draco whispered, leaning towards Harry and capturing his lips in an intense kiss, so full of unsaid emotions it made Harry's chest feel tight, sure his heart would explode any moment.  
In those moments he was senseless, nothing on his mind, only his desire for the man in front of him.  
Only Draco – no space for anything else. 

“We could try.”, he murmured against soft lips, feeling Draco's sigh without hearing it.  
“Harry.”  
“We – I mean, it could work out, you know?”  
“Harry, I'm twenty-five years old. I don't need anything that works out. I need a yearly phenomenal shag, too many drinks and the best breakfast there's ever been. And all of that is mine. Once a year, the weekend before Christmas. And that's enough, as long as my looks guarantee that slutty lifestyle of mine.” 

Harry rested his forehead on Draco's chest.  
“You're not a slut, Draco.”  
Draco laughed, his hand pulling Harry's chin up so he had to look at him.  
“You'll always be the only one, Harry.”

 

 

 

Harry hated the loneliness of Grimmauld Place.  
He hated it even more than the previous years.  
Every year the weekend before Christmas seemed like a fairytale becoming true.  
The only night of the year Harry could spend with the one man, he...  
He what exactly?  
364 days of the year they played their little game of hide and seek – for seven years.  
Malfoy and his cronies of posh, spoiled, well-bread nymphomaniacs acting as the personal terror to Harry's and his friends' life.

But that one night and the following day Harry felt weightless.  
Sated for the following 364 days of solitude.  
No relationship ever survived theirs.  
No attempt of involving somebody into their lives was able to make it through a Christmas party which had Harry and Malfoy as guests.  
Malfoy had been absolutely lazy and acting like a cat the whole time they'd spent together on Sunday.  
Following Harry's every step and curling up in his lap every time Harry's bum touched a surface of any kind. 

And as every year Malfoy left with a kiss, thrusting Harry's Quidditch shirt into his hand, vanishing in green flames, the words “See you next year, Harry.”, barely audible.  
This year was no exception, as wouldn't be the next or the year after that.  
But every year was making it harder and harder for Harry to go on.  
Malfoy was so untroubled and light-hearted in those twenty-four hours they shared.  
And he was only and truly Harry's. 

No cruel remarks – well, no painful ones, that is.  
Nothing left of the cold-hearted ponce, as Ron liked to call him, which he always became if surrounded by others.  
Just a lazy, giggling lump of cuteness, wearing Harry's tricot, a Witch Weekly in his lap, while Harry kissed him from top to toe.  
Merlin, he loved those twenty-four hours.  
He'd never trade them for anything in the world.  
But they didn't suffice anymore.

He went to work as usual, suffering the mockery of friends and colleagues.  
Nothing new there, just the usual after their yearly encounter.  
Nobody'd been shocked anymore after their third time in a row.  
Malfoy, the bloody bastard, was always on vacation during the holidays and the time he returned to the Ministry, Harry had already dealt with the worst of it.  
It felt as if Malfoy needed this break to regain his strength before facing the aftermath. 

The first time it happened Malfoy had still been to Hogwarts, returning to finish his education.  
Harry, already in Auror training, had been invited, along with Ron, to attend the Christmas party of their friends.  
The 8th year common room had looked like a battlefield - empty bottles of booze covering every free surface, obscene drinking games being played in every corner and before long Harry realised why somebody would put anything up their arse. 

It's been the first time for both of them.  
And they had spent a full of twenty-four hours behind the closed door of Malfoy's and Zabini's room.  
Merlin only knew where Zabini had been all that time.  
Harry had certainly spent them in heaven.  
Both of them didn't know exactly what to do or even how to, but they managed anyway and tested their borders as thoroughly as they knew back then. 

Two years later Harry discovered there was nothing like a tongue up Malfoy's arse to shut the man up and make him a moaning mess.  
It took him four years to learn about the pleasures of a proper foot-job with those long, agile feet (might be the reason he became quite obsessed with them).  
Malfoy was the most flexible and controlled lover Harry had ever encountered.  
Sometimes he thought one of these days he would lose his mind just thinking about the tall blonde.  
Malfoy was sex on legs – with him at close range Harry was reduced to a sex-crazed teenager. 

It took them several years to realise they didn't have to rush things.  
That it was more than just sex.  
They could talk for hours, cuddle or share comfortable silence.  
Frankly, Harry liked these moments best.  
Malfoy's true face appeared behind all those layers of aloofness and haughtiness.  
The man, who giggled like a little girl whenever Harry put a feather-light kiss on that small spot, right on Malfoy's left hip.  
The man, who told him all about the circulating gossip regarding their friends, colleagues or celebrities he just read about in the newest run of Witch Weekly, while his fingers fondled with the strands of Harry's hair like he was in some kind of trance.  
The man, who was breathtakingly beautiful without his mask of style, snootiness and money. 

Sighing, Harry entered Grimmauld Place, accioed a beer and threw himself into the worn-out sofa in front of the fireplace.  
Something pressed into his spine and as he reached for it, he recognised it was the newest issue of Witch Weekly.  
Malfoy must have forgotten it after having a fit about next year's trend of pastel-coloured clothing and the horrors it did to his complexion.  
Harry had only told him, chuckling badly, he'd definitely look like one of those cat-nightmares on the walls of Umbridge's office in case he'd ever wear lilac robes.  
Malfoy had slapped his arm, acting angry, before they did it vanilla right on this very sofa.  
Harry closed his eyes and tried feverishly to ignore his feelings. 

 

 

 

Harry held his breath and pulled out his wand, hidden in the sleeve of his Auror robe, as he arrived in front of Grimmauld Place.  
He could see light falling through the windows onto the ground in front of his house.  
Who in his right mind could possibly be stupid enough not only to break into the house of the head of the DMLE, no, but also turn on every fucking light inside it?  
He didn't trust his skills right now and decided against apparating into his entrance hall.  
Carefully he opened the door and glanced into the house.  
It smelled like...

"Got on a lucky one, came in eighteen to one! I've got a feeling this year's for me and you! So happy Christmas, I love you baby! I can see a better time, when all our dreams come true!“  
Harry stopped in his tracks before bursting into laughter and entering his home.  
“Malfoy?”, he asked and followed the smell of Christmas biscuits into the kitchen.  
And, indeed, his head in the oven and his bum in the air, Draco Malfoy himself stood in Harry's kitchen, wearing a Christmas elf costume and singing Muggle Christmas carols.  
Draco straightened up, his nose longer and pointed, his ears the ones of an elf, like the one in those films Hermione liked to watch.  
The bells on his shoes jingled as he moved towards Harry, his cap dangling on his head as he leaned forward, placing a smack on Harry's cheek.

“Merlin's wrinkly arse, what are you doing here?”, Harry asked, his gaze travelling up and down Draco's appearance, registering his tight green suit and the red and white striped leggings.  
Draco grinned at him, his nose twitching like the nose of a rabbit.  
“What does it look like, Potter? I'm obviously your personal Christmas elf!”  
“And why exactly do I need a Christmas elf?”  
Draco rolled his eyes and helped Harry out of his robes.  
“Because I don't want you moody Gronch to steal Christmas of course!”  
“Grinch.”  
“That's what I said.”

Harry shook his head in disbelief and pricked Draco's pointy nose.  
“You made a really good job of it.”  
Draco beamed at him.  
“Oh, I made all that effort only for you, my small nasty Gronch!”  
“Grinch.”  
“That's what I said.”  
He left Harry standing in the kitchen, which was warm and smelled wonderfully of biscuits, the jingling of his shoes telling Harry he had to be in the drawing room and reluctantly followed, casting a last longing glance towards the biscuits in the oven. 

Draco stood with his hands on his hips above a chest, looking sceptically at its contents.  
Harry moved forward to stand next to him and took a glimpse at it.  
The inside of the chest was sparkling and twinkling.  
Merlin, Draco didn't seriously plan on...?  
“We'll start decorating downstairs, moving upwards in the process. And we'll need a tree – of course.”  
“A tree?”  
“A tree.”

Harry looked at him bemused, putting his hand on Draco's forehead, who shot him a bewildered glance.  
“What are you doing, Potter?”  
“Checking whether you're sick.”  
“Why should I be sick?”  
“Because you obviously lost your mind. You do realise you're not here because of work related reasons or because it's the day after a Christmas party?”  
Draco snorted and slapped his hand away. 

“Potter, I am not capable of suffering through your self-pity. And I feel offended by your lack of Christmas related cheerfulness. I am only trying to save the world from you becoming a grumpy dodderer. Just think of me as the saviour of the wizarding world. My actions are rather honourable.”  
Harry burst out laughing and watched a grinning Draco, who began decorating the drawing room.  
“Won't your mother miss all these things?”, Harry asked as he caught a box full of fairy lights which Draco tossed at him.

“Salazar, mind you, I would never dare to touch her Christmas decorations! She'd have my head on a silver platter within seconds. Those are mine and a few Black and Malfoy heirlooms. And I found some of those in your attic.”  
“You seriously did lose your mind, Malfoy.”  
“Elf Malfoy, if you please. And the best part is we'll do it the Muggle way, as you're so fond of working with your hands and all.”  
Harry shot him a lopsided grin and waggled his eyebrows.  
“Indeed, there are quite a lot of things I'd love to do with my hands, right this very moment.”, he murmured, which earned him dispraising glance of 'Elf-Malfoy'.

“Guard your libido, Potter! Now pick me up, I need to put up these fairy lights, no, the other one, Salazar, are you blind, Potter? No! The ones with the little, yes, exactly. Give it to me!”  
Harry handed him the fairy lights with the little snowflakes and let Draco command him, his elf shoes on Harry's shoulders as Draco attached the fairy lights above the window.  
“A bit to the right, bit more, perfect! Let's go on.”

Draco dropped back onto Harry's shoulders, who accompanied him with his off-key singing of carols and the smell of biscuits throughout their task, helping him standing up on Harry's shoulders if needed and not feeling sorry in the slightest every time he accidentally touched that perfect little arse.  
Coincidence, really.  
Draco started pulling his hair to manoeuvre him, as if Harry was a bloody hack, and they pushed and slapped at each other, which ended in the middle of the soft carpet in Harry's study, making love on top of cinnamon sticks and fir-sprigs.  
As moaning replaced chuckling, Harry wasn't upset about the fact at all.

 

 

 

When Harry arrived home on the 24th of December he didn't feel surprised in the slightest about the turned on lights and the off-key singing upstairs, where Draco draped a garland along the banister.  
“Darling, I'm home!”, Harry purred laughing, leaning across the banister to regard Draco's grinning face.  
“You took your time, Mister Gronch.”  
“Draco honestly, you're driving me nuts! That bloody brute is called Grinch!”  
Draco's grin widened.  
“That's what I said.”

Harry took off his robes and tossed his shoes aside as Draco came downstairs, still singing off-key carols.  
When he reached Harry he kissed him effusively, fir needles accentuating his hair.  
“We still need a tree!”, he called out enthusiastically, taking a biscuit off a plate on top of a chest of drawers and tossed it into his mouth in one piece.  
“Aren't you expected at a certain Christmas party at, what was it called again? Malfoy Manor.”, Harry asked, taking one of the biscuits himself, his hip leaning on top of the piece of furniture, smiling when he caught a glimpse of icing in the corner of Draco's mouth. 

“I hate that bloody party. And a Christmas tree should be our priority on the 24th of December, don't you think?”  
“What about Boot?”  
Draco shrugged.  
“What about him?”  
“You do realise he's your date tonight?”  
“Well, I'm sure my parents will appreciate his attendance at the party.”  
Harry chuckled, leaning forward to lick the icing off Draco's lips.  
“Sometimes I honestly forget you're a bloody fucking sod.”

Draco stuck his tongue out, but Harry grabbed him around the waist and pulled him into a bruising kiss.  
He tasted of vanilla, cinnamon and raspberry jam.  
Merlin, there was no bloody way Harry would ever get tired of him...  
“If you don't stop this we'll never be done with this whole tree business, Harry.”, Draco sighed, while Harry let his hand trail down to Draco's groin.  
“What a shame.”, Harry murmured, falling to his knees.  
He pushed Draco's trousers and pants down, his breath ghosting over the sensible, damp head, before licking along his length.  
“Harry...”, Draco sighed, his fingers pulling at Harry's hair, just the way Harry liked it.

He took Draco's prick into his mouth and started sucking in earnest, Draco's moaning and screaming the best confirmation for the pleasure he gave him.  
His throat relaxed and Draco started to thrust into it, while Harry pulled out his own cock and pumped it frantically.  
His gaze travelled up Draco's body slowly, as their eyes met Draco stopped breathing, before whispering a raspy “Harry” and shooting his release down Harry's throat. 

Harry took all of it and swallowed, meanwhile riding the last waves of his own orgasm.  
Draco knelt down in front of him, taking Harry's face into his hands to kiss him with a sincerity, that made Harry's breath hitch and his heart stop beating for a moment.  
They stopped, foreheads resting against each other, catching their breath.  
Harry loved the way Draco almost melted in his hands.  
In the afterglow of their encounters he always seemed so soft, sensitive and vulnerable. 

Merlin, his glassy eyes, pink cheeks and enquiring hands, dancing across Harry's face randomly...  
Harry caught one of those hands, pressing a kiss into the palm, which made Draco smile shyly.  
“You are so beautiful, Draco.”, Harry whispered, kissing the tip of his nose.  
Draco giggled before getting up, offering Harry a hand to pull him into a standing position.  
“For me this had been the best possible excuse to miss my parents' party.”, Draco whispered back, before accioing a damp cloth to clean Harry, dressing him afterwards.

Harry smiled brightly, following Draco to put a coat on, stealing pecks of the most gorgeous man he'd ever met.  
Draco laughed lightly into their kiss, pushing Harry playfully as he started to rub his again growing erection at Draco's thigh.  
He clicked his tongue, grabbing Harry's old Gryffindor scarf and wrapping it around his neck.  
A grin spread on Harry's face as they left the house and walked down the steps.

Without thinking he took Draco's hand into his, entwining their fingers while walking down the street to buy a Christmas tree.  
Harry hoped Draco would still be there to open presents right beneath that tree.  
He hoped Draco would still be there in the evening to watch the Grinch on telly.  
He hoped Draco would still be there on New Year's Eve and every other day.  
For Harry.  
With Harry.  
Draco babbled happily while Harry's heart turned incredibly heavy.

 

 

 

Something woke him by tickling his nose.  
Opening his eyes slowly, he realised platinum blonde strands dangling in front of his eyes, a breathtaking smile floating above him.  
“Happy Christmas, Harry.”, Draco whispered, placing a chaste kiss on the corner of Harry's mouth.  
Smiling, he sneaked his arms around Draco's waist and tucked him closer.  
Draco laughed gently as Harry almost buried him underneath his body , memorising every detail of the most beautiful face he ever explored.  
Exploring the answers to all of his questions. 

Draco touched his cheek, a questioning glance in his eyes.  
“What's the matter?”, he whispered, surprisingly gentle, running his hand through Harry's hair.  
“Nothing.”, Harry answered, leaning down to kiss him.  
It was easy to forget all his sorrows and doubts every time Draco was with him.  
His hand trailed down Draco's body, realising he was ready for him, stretched from their activities the night before.

Draco lifted his hips and Harry entered him carefully, losing himself in the feeling of being one with the most infuriating and loveable person he'd ever met.  
Inseparable.  
A bitter thought.  
“Harry.”, Draco moaned and kissed him, his release spurting between their bodies, moaning into Harry's mouth, Harry following him after only two more thrusts. 

There was no need for hurry in any of their activities, they savoured each other, warmth and intimacy and familiarity.  
They had breakfast together, before cuddling up in front of the Christmas tree, kissing and tugged in a cocoon of blankets.  
A pile of presents lay underneath the tree and Harry was certain all their friends and family sent them during the night.

Harry couldn't oppress a smile as Draco squeaked like a little girl in delight, almost throwing himself into the pile.  
“My father must have been blind with rage when my mother sent the presents here!”, he exclaimed, screaming with laughter, leaning forward to kiss Harry thoroughly.  
They separated the presents into two piles, Draco's tidy to a T, Harry's, well, more of a muddle.

“Your mother doesn't mind you being here?”, he asked carefully, glimpsing at a knobby package, obviously a Weasley jumper.  
Draco shrugged.  
“It's been her idea actually. Been there for brunch on Monday and we talked about –”  
He halted, his cheeks turning crimson.  
Harry took his hand, squeezing it gently.  
After a theatrical sigh, Draco went on. 

“We talked about you. Well, more like you and me, that is. This... thing. Oh please, stop looking surprised, whom should I have talked to instead? Pansy?”  
Harry grinned sheepishly and gestured for him to go on.  
“It's... complicated. I mean, well, I,... Salazar.”  
Draco pushed his hands into his hair, pulling lightly and looking at Harry in a pleading way.  
“Well, you know, I kind of, uhm, love all those things. Fancy dinner dates. Expensive clothes. Affairs with celebrities. But I also, I, there are things, I kind of, uhm, you know, more?”

Before Draco could stutter on and on, Harry rummaged inside himself, locating all of his Gryffindor bravery somewhere in the back of his mind and looked Draco straight in the eye.  
“I love you.”  
Draco went utterly and alarmingly pale, his mouth gaping open.  
“What.”  
Harry gulped.   
“I love you.”  
“Say that again?”  
“I, uhm, I love you?”

Without warning he had a lap full of Draco, straddling him, his ankles crossed behind Harry's back, his hands on Harry's cheeks.  
“Harry.”, he whispered, looking at him in wonder.  
Harry's hands ran down Draco's back, looking at him uncertain.  
“I know, you think of it as, I don't know, impractical or something. You said that at least a million times just last Sunday. And I also know it's not suiting your lifestyle and all that crap. But I honestly can't do this anymore, Draco. It's all or nothing. I know, this has been 'us' for a long time, but it's not 'me' anymore.”

Before he could say the word 'snitch' Draco's lips found his.  
Sweet, because of all the biscuits he ate for breakfast.  
Familiar, warm, the feeling in his chest back, that made him think there was no room for anything else than Draco.  
Draco was everywhere.  
On top of him, around him, inside him.  
Merlin, he was Harry's bloody universe.  
Draco chuckled, pulling away.  
“Am I, now?”

Harry felt the heat in his cheeks and narrowed his eyes.  
“I said that aloud, didn't I?”  
“Indeed.”  
A self-satisfied smirk took residence on Draco's face.  
His arms sneaked around Harry's neck, watching him intently before pulling away to grab one of the presents.  
The wrapping was neat, silver wrapping paper without a crease to be seen, a dark green bow on top of it.  
“This is for you, Harry. It's nothing special, but –”  
“Thank you!”, Harry exclaimed excited, not letting Draco finish his sentence, making him laugh in the process. 

“You don't even know what's in there.”  
Harry shrugged.  
“You gave it to me. You never made me a gift before.”  
Draco smiled, the tips of his fingers sliding along Harry's cheek before he stood up and made room for Harry to open the present.

Inside he found a leather-bound photo album which he opened as careful as possible with shaking hands.  
The first page already made him burst into laughter.  
It was a doodle Draco had drawn back in school, Harry riding his broom and being struck by lightning.  
He had no idea how Draco had retrieved it.  
The next one showed a scribble Harry had drawn in Potions, dealing with Draco's painful decease obviously.

There were plenty tatters of parchment, doodles and snapshots of them.  
Duelling in front of the lifts at the Ministry, while their colleagues tried to separate them.  
Another picture showed Draco yelling at him for getting the last helping of chocolate ice cream on an unbearable hot summer day at Florian Fortescue's.  
Harry had obviously planned on making Draco's life miserable, sure.  
One of them showed them tangled together, a pose quite similar to the one just a few minutes ago, in front of the fireplace in the 8th year common room at Hogwarts.

Draco leaned forward, straddling Harry's lap, whispering something into his ear, which made him blush furiously, watching Draco's lips almost mesmerised and nodding slowly, before leaning in to kiss him.  
“Our first kiss.”, Harry murmured, tracing their outlines in the picture with his fingertips.  
“How...?”  
“Blaise took it. The reason he hadn't bothered us. Kind of a foreboding.”  
Harry smiled and looked up at Draco.  
“This is the most incredible gift I ever received, Draco.”

He nodded in the direction of the photo album.  
“Go ahead.”  
Harry thumbed through it until he got to the last pages. 

 

London, 18th of December 2005

Draco,

I hope you enjoyed a spectacular as usual night.  
As you most certainly are sitting in Potter's kitchen, licking jam off your fingers, while he's kissing your obscene big feet, I am sure you are happier than all the remaining 364 days of the year. 

Darling, please allow yourself to finally be happy.  
It's the seven-year itch – let it be magical. 

Love,  
Pansy

 

London, 19th of December 2005

Pansy,

I love him.  
Thank you.

Draco

 

Harry was flabbergasted and his head snapped up to meet shy, vulnerable grey eyes, looking nothing like the Draco Malfoy he knew.  
“You – you do love me.”  
Draco tried a careful smile, indecisive despite all truths they just shared.  
Harry got to his feet, pulling Draco up and into his arms.  
“Draco, you have no idea what this means to me. You honestly don't. Merlin, you bloody idiot, you're so fucking perfect, I love you.”

 

 

 

On the 25th of December they sat in front of Harry's telly, watching the Grinch.  
Harry couldn't believe his luck.

The morning of the 26th of December, he woke up next to Draco, flooed to Andromeda and Teddy, holding Draco's hand all along, celebrating Christmas, still thinking he was dreaming.  
Even as Teddy flew right into his shin with that bloody broom he got him.

In the evening they sat in the conservatory of Malfoy Manor, dining with Draco's parents and despite the hateful glares of Lucius Malfoy, he couldn't be sure he wasn't just phantasising. 

Midnight, on the 31st of December, or more like the 1st of January 2006, he was pulled into a kiss, which made him float boneless, making him feel sure he couldn't possibly be any happier.  
Entangled, they stood on a hill somewhere in the middle of nowhere, watching fireworks in the distance, whispering sweet nothings to each other.  
“Do you think it will remain like this, even if we grow old to be nasty old bastards?”, Draco whispered, making Harry's skin prickle.  
Harry grinned and kissed his cheek.  
“I'll never stop thinking about how to curse you the moment you turn your back to me at least 364 days of the year.”

Draco laughed, his beautiful laugh, his unique 'only for Harry' laugh, which Harry would never share with anybody else in the whole bloody world, nudging Harry with his elbow.  
Harry apparated them straight into his – no – their bed, celebrating the New Year in the only way appropriate.

Christmas decorations gave way for yellow daffodils and orange lilies as spring arrived.  
Books about defence against the dark arts shared their shelves with books about potion making.  
Red Auror robes shared their clothes rail with the grey ones of Unspeakables.  
The pictures of Hermione and Ron on the mantelpiece were soon joined by Pansy and Blaise.

And in the middle of it all, Draco Malfoy himself was curled up, wearing a Gryffindor Quidditch tricot, in the lap of a certain Harry Potter and let the man kiss him, from top to toe, while cursing about tweed jackets and pointed hats.  
Bitching about Terry Boot, the goblins of Gringott's, meanwhile working out a plan for his world domination. 

The magazines piled up on the coffee table as the seasons went by, until one day a particular Daily Prophet lay on top of them, flipped open on an inconspicuous page, full of inconspicuous font, full of inconspicuous people. 

 

Forthcoming Marriages 

Mr. H. J. Potter and Mr. D. L. H. Malfoy  
The engagement is announced between Harry, son of James and Lily Potter, and Draco, son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. 

 

But as inconspicuous as some things seemed, sometimes the story behind them was a magical one.  
So full of the fairytale of the protagonists no 'Once upon a time' or 'And they lived happily ever after' could ever cover it all adequately. 

All those years since the war had ended they've been dancing around each other in the most stupid ways imaginable.  
Flirting, touching, all of it a bloody competition.  
Brawling, teasing, brainless shouting matches.

Let's just put it this way: they've become rather bored listening to the intro and finally – finally their beloved crescendo resounded.


End file.
